Kevin made some soft noises by scraping against a desk, moving a chair, and brushing by the strings of beads hanging from the ceiling in Ellen’s room. He always woke Ellen up by making indirect noises instead of barging in and calling her name or turning on the light. Ellen had told him she liked being woken up gently and slowly.
Ellen sat up in her bed and yawned. She was wearing her Britney Spears nightgown, and her hair had been braided before she went to sleep to make it easier to comb in the morning.
“Good morning,” Kevin said cheerily. “It’s Tuesday, the 9th of January. And it’s not raining in Holland today.”
“I can’t wait for it to snow so the canals will freeze over,” Ellen stretched in her bed. “I can’t wait to ice skate on them.”
“That’ll be fun, but not for me.”
Ellen smiled. She and Diane were good ice skaters. Kevin couldn’t skate at all. The few times he had tried at the ice arena in Santa Rosa he had staggered like a drunk, lurching for the walls on the side of the rink to hold himself up. He wouldn’t even dare try skating on the canals, where there was nothing to hold on to.
“Let’s get dressed. I’ve got a trial to go to, and you’ve got school.”
Ellen sprung out of bed. “I’ll race you,” she said. “First one to get done with all their bathroom stuff and get dressed wins.”
“That’s not fair. I have to take a shower, and put on a suit.”
“Tough luck, buddy.” Ellen glided past Kevin into her bathroom.
Kevin turned and dashed down the stairs. His ploy had gotten her moving, but he wasn’t about to concede defeat.
After Kevin had gotten out of the shower, but not yet dressed, Ellen yelled to him from downstairs. “You can take your time, slowpoke. I already won by a mile.”
When Kevin finally finished and came downstairs for breakfast, Diane was making sure that Ellen had everything she needed for school in her backpack.
“What’s going to happen at Draga’s trial today?” Ellen asked.
“Not much. Just some expert witnesses giving the judges background information on the war.”
“When can I come watch?”
“Maybe on a really exciting day.”
“Do you promise?”
Kevin looked over at Diane. She was frowning.
“Well, I can’t promise for sure. The Tribunal rules say you have to be sixteen to watch the trials. But I’ll see what I can do to get a special exception made for you.”
“I can be really quiet.”
“I know that. You’ve been to more trials than most lawyers.”
“You need to get going. It’s 8 o’clock,” Diane said to Ellen.
Ellen grabbed her backpack and headed out the back door.
“Since it’s not raining, I think I’ll bike today, too,” Kevin said.
When he got to the Tribunal, Kevin found that he had thirty minutes to spare before court started. He went into to the holding area to visit Draga. He told Draga about the conversations he had with Pete Barnes and Zoran Vacinovic.
“I feel like we’re walking a tightrope here. Your friends are unhappy because I am not fighting for you and the CIA is unhappy because I am fighting too hard.”
“When everyone is unhappy, that usually means you’re doing a good job,” Draga said. “Let’s just get the trial over with. I hate sitting here listening to that tight-ass Stone.”
“I’m still trying to win your trial.”
“That’s what I like about you, Kevin. You’re a dreamer. Just keep working on my deal with Pete and the boys. Let’s see if we can move up the date of my proposed death.”
The prosecution’s first witness was a professor of Slavic Studies at Yale University. Kevin listened as prosecutor Charles Osgood led the witness through a lengthy description of his background and qualifications, including the books and articles that he had authored on the former Yugoslavia. Kevin leafed through the professor’s thirty-page curriculum vitae as the man droned on about his numerous publications, and conferences at which he had presented papers.
Kevin looked at the judges. Judge Davidson, seated closest to him, was fidgeting with his pen. Judge Orozco, in the center, was alternately looking at the witness and down at some written materials she had in front of her. Judge Linares, seated furthest from Kevin, was staring blankly at the computer terminal in front of him, where the simultaneous transcript was being typed on the screen as the witness spoke.
By the time Oswald had completed his questions on the professor’s qualifications, it was time for the morning break. Everyone in the courtroom rose, grateful for the opportunity to stretch and break up the monotony.
Kevin walked over to Draga. “This is torture,” Draga complained. “I never did anything this cruel to any Muslim.”
Kevin saw the guards on both sides of Draga unsuccessfully try to suppress a grin.
“Do I have to be here?” Draga asked.
“Yes, you do. If I have to be here, you have to be here.” Kevin walked over to his briefcase and pulled out the sports section of USA Today. “Can I give this to him?” he asked one of the guards.
“Sure.”
“Here’s something for you to read. Maybe you can study for this week’s NFC and AFC Conference Championships. You’ve got two weeks to go and I’m still ahead by 10 Euros.”
Draga took the paper. “Bring me one of these every day. It will give me a reason to live. If I have to listen to this every day, I might kill myself.”
Kevin shook his head. His client was turning out to be a real comedian, and Kevin’s only friend at the Tribunal.
The professor’s testimony lasted the entire day, and most of the next day. He had not made a single reference to Draga or the Black Dragons. An almost audible sigh of relief could be heard in the courtroom when Oswald finally announced, “Thank you, Professor. I have no further questions at this time.”
All eyes turned to Kevin. He stood up and turned on his microphone. “Do you have any personal knowledge of any war crimes committed by my client, Dragoljub Zaric or by men under his command?” he asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Turning to Judge Orozco, Kevin said, “Thank you, Madam President. I have no further questions.”
Kevin took his seat. He could tell that everyone in the courtroom was surprised. On the other side of the glass, he saw some of the press corps turning around and conferring with one another.
“Very well,” Judge Orozco said after a moment. She turned to the prosecution. “Call your next witness.”
The next witness, and the two that followed over the balance of the week, were also academics. They painstakingly traced the social, political, cultural, and military events prior to 1992 that led up to the war in Bosnia. Kevin asked each of the witnesses the same question and all acknowledged that they had no personal knowledge of any war crimes committed by Draga, or by men under his command.
By Friday afternoon, the visitors’ gallery had all but emptied. “Trial by tedium,” one of the reporters had called it. Kevin was grateful that the week had passed without any further contact from Pete Barnes or Zoran Vacinovic. For now, all was quiet.
It was only 3:30 when Kevin packed up his briefcase and headed for home. When he reached the Tribunal lobby, a reporter came up to him. “Mr. Anderson, do you have any comment on Toma Lanko’s story?”
“I haven’t seen it.”
The reporter handed Kevin a paper. Kevin read the headline. “Draga’s Lawyer Putting up No Defense.”
“No, I don’t have any comment,” Kevin said, returning the paper to the man. His critics would just have to be patient. Revealing his defense would just tip off the prosecutors. He didn’t trust Bradford Stone to play fair.
Diane was sitting in the living room when Kevin came in. “I’m home early. How are you doing?”
“Fine. I’m still waiting for Ellen to come home from school. She’s usually home by now.”